Metal observed the flickies as they flew across the varying branches, each flicky and branch a different shape and size. Metal was waiting - waiting for Sonic - and in that time, he could only occupy himself by making calculations.

What was the likely difference in weight between the largest and smallest flicky he'd seen? If the largest were to force its weight on the weakest branch, would it break?

Exactly how long had he been friends with Sonic?

Metal inwardly cursed. There it was again. His mind was drifting. He tried slowing his thought processors, but things always seemed to drift back to Sonic. It was a bad habit and he wished he could quit.

A leaf from a nearby tree branch broke off, flying in his general direction and landing at his feet. Metal paused to stare at it, then crushed it underneath his sole, trying to make a scientific guess in his head of how many pieces the leaf would be in when he looked; nine was the estimate.

He moved his foot. Ten. He really was off today.

A voice then called out to him. "Am I late?"

Metal looked behind him, seeing Sonic standing there with his usual smile. He gave no visual reaction, but was glad that Sonic had finally arrived. "Yes. You are later than Doctor Eggman is on starting his diets."

Sonic's eyebrows rose in surprise. He laughed, even clutching his stomach a bit as he sat next to Metal. "Wow, I must've been really late then. So, what, you like jokes now?"

"So I succeeded?" Metal asked. "I have been calculating the perfect formula to construct the joke and thus ensure that you laugh every time without fail."

Sonic hummed, seeming amused. "I don't think there's a formula for jokes. Sometimes, things are funny just because."

"For some, yes, it appears so." Metal sounded frustrated at the fact. Things that had no structure made little sense to him, and jokes were complicated. The tone in which they're delivered, the timing, and the phrasing of the joke all mattered, and though Metal had kept track of every joke he'd ever seen Sonic laugh at, his analysis of them had been lacking. They were like Sonic; a stream of mild understanding cut off by a rock of complications.

"Have you been practicing that one?" Sonic asked. "Your delivery was great."

"Yes, that was my intent," Metal replied. "I determined that you would laugh harder if I had said something you found amusing in a tone lacking amusement."

"Don't think about it too hard," Sonic warned, but playfully. "Don't want your funny bolt to come undone."

"I don't—" Metal beeped, understanding. "Oh."

"Aw, come on, Mets, you could've at least faked a laugh for me."

"I could have, but the thought does not feel like the correct action to take. It would be as if I were lying to you, and I enjoy the honesty of our relationship."

He looked over when Sonic failed to respond, seeing his green eyes staring back with a hint of fondness.

Metal's gears shook as he averted his gaze. Honesty? What a lie. Metal was anything but honest. He wondered, did the irony of that fact make it funny?

"That's cool, though," Sonic said. He blushed somewhat in embarrassment. "I think Tails fakes laughing sometimes, so it's nice to have someone who won't laugh if I really mess up a pun."

Metal nodded, not knowing what else to say. If he was truthful, even if he didn't find one of Sonic's jokes funny, it was still nice to see the way Sonic's face would light up when he made it.

Judging by the lack of energy in Sonic's movements, Metal was certain that today wasn't a racing day. Sonic was sporadic like that, feeling energetic one moment and completely lax in another. He always wondered if it had something to do with his unexplainable speed, but he could never be sure.

Sonic stretched his arms upwards, then placed them behind his head as he laid down on the grass. He closed an eye, keeping the other on Metal. "Got any more?"

"What?"

"Jokes. Don't tell me you only thought up one."

He hadn't. Metal searched his hard drive, hoping to find a joke of value. He had many in reserve, but didn't feel so sure of them. "I have one, but it is to be saved only for when we are racing."

"That's fine," Sonic said, waving a hand assuredly as he closed his open eye. "I wanna hear it anyway."

Metal watched Sonic for a moment, the occasional wind blowing by and shifting Sonic's blue fur ever so slightly. He hesitated, as if Sonic was sleeping and didn't want to be disturbed.

"If we were racing, compared to myself, you would be slower than the echidna is at collecting shards of the Master Emerald."

In an instant, Sonic's eyes popped back open. Metal feared he'd done something wrong, but Sonic was suddenly roaring with laughter, his original position abandoned as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Metal.

"Aw man, Mets!" he said, voice loud and full of happy giggles. "How could you? That hurts!"

The red of Metal's eyes made a blinking motion. "I apologize. It was not my intention to harm you."

"No, no!" He was still in the midst of laughing, but it soon died down enough for him to make eye contact with Metal and properly respond. "That was hilarious, even if you're totally wrong."

"I had come to the conclusion that I'm required to make sacrifices in terms of logic if I need you to laugh, especially as my experience with jokes is limited to a similar structure."

"Fair enough." Sonic rolled over to his other side, looking up at Metal. "Do you have another?"

"Another..." Metal repeated. The honest answer was "yes", but after that reaction, Metal had calculated that it wasn't likely he'd make Sonic laugh just as much. Yet, Sonic was looking at him expectantly, his grin approximately 10% wider than usual; Metal would know, as he kept many notes on the variations of Sonic's smile.

His jokes had not been fully optimized. Even if he spent his processors perfecting just one, it would still take much longer than the average responding time, and Sonic would be concerned. If he told an incomplete joke, Sonic would be confused. If he told an unoptimized joke, Sonic wouldn't laugh as hard. Sonic could potentially be disappointed with that. If he said nothing at all or claimed he had no further humor, Sonic could also be potentially disappointed. Metal didn't want Sonic to be disappointed. If he responded and Sonic was confused or disappointed, Metal would feel disappointed in himself.

"Metal?" Sonic called, noticing the fuzziness of Metal's eyes, which usually meant he was thinking hard about something.

Metal's eyes came back into focus. Sonic was concerned, meaning that time had passed without Metal's notice. How much thought had gone into thinking up a simple joke, when Sonic hardly had to think at all to do one? Pathetic.

Sonic frowned. "You don't have to tell me another joke if you can't think of any, bud."

"I do," he responded without thinking. Metal knew Sonic was only trying to reassure him, but now he felt challenged. He was Eggman's greatest creation, made to trash anything and everything that he needed to. Yet, he could also think, feel, and reason, more so than any other robot.

Constructing a funny joke? He'd only need a floppy disk's worth of data.

Sonic raised a brow, but rested his head in his palm, elbow against the grass. Metal could tell that Sonic didn't feel certain, but was waiting for his reply nonetheless.

Metal scanned through his list of potential jokes again. If they were all failures, then the solution was simple; make something new. He gathered all information in his dictionary. His word processor was already in overuse from trying before, but he could repair it later if it burnt out.

Jokes needed to be funny. Hilarity could be made in the form of irony, wit, or stretches made to impossible lengths to the point where it's humorous.

His processor spat something back out at him. His gears churned at the result, but he knew this would work.

He turned towards Sonic. "I adore you more than you are aware; more than Eggman enjoys trying to destroy you."

He waited, expecting - anticipating - laughter. Sonic's ears had flickered, as though Metal had been heard, but no laughter followed. Metal checked his internal clock, which confirmed to him that time had indeed passed since he delivered the joke.

Did Sonic not understand? Metal felt frustrated. He would have to explain it, and the impact of a joke always lost effect when it needed explanation.

"It is funny because it is impossible for it to be returned. A relationship between a living being and a robot has never happened before. Despite those odds and my attempts to clear my hard drive of this emotion, it will not leave me. It is also ironic because I was meant to hate you, yet have found myself doing the exact opposite. That is an impossible length, irony, and the comparison of Eggman enjoying trying to destroy you in one. Therefore, it is hilarious."

Or, at least, it should be hilarious. Sonic had sat up, mouth slightly open, but nothing came out. Metal turned up his hearing just to make sure, but it was the same result. Where had he failed in his calculations? He was supposed to accomplish two things at once; being honest with Sonic and getting him to laugh. So, why wasn't Sonic laughing?

Suddenly, a bad feeling settled in. He couldn't describe it and had never felt it before, but it was there, and he hated it.

He searched his system for errors, for anything that was wrong. An excuse; he needed an excuse to leave. Though he was a robot, he could tell that the atmosphere was awkward.

He got up, turning his gaze away from Sonic. He readied himself to go, but felt Sonic's gloved hand grasp his, and tightly.

"W-whoa, wait. Did you mean that?" Sonic asked. "That's not a joke?"

It was a joke. These feelings were a joke.

"I am going to leave. I need to..." Beep. "...check my oil. If it is not checked within the next one hundred and thirty-two days, dangerous things could occur."

He tried to retract his hand from Sonic, but the force of Sonic's pull forced him to sit back down.

"Then that's one hundred and thirty-one days that you don't need to go anywhere," Sonic argued firmly.

Metal felt his hard drive struggling, his faux nervous system reacting negatively to Sonic's touch. It made his hand shake with unease. He tried to distract himself, looking at anything that wasn't Sonic.

"Mets, look at me."

This wasn't right. He normally relished in Sonic's touch and felt empty when they were apart. Now, he wanted Sonic to let go and make distance between the two of them.

"Metal."

"Conversations can be had without maintaining eye contact," Metal stated.

He heard Sonic sigh. It sounded conflicted. "N-no, that's not it. Come on, you know I'm bad with words."

"That is irrelevant. You do not need to say anything."

"Fine, I won't, but you have to look at me then!"

Sonic was being insistent. Metal knew Sonic wouldn't give up or let go until Metal gave into his demands. He turned his head, staring at the ground momentarily before his eyes finally met with Sonic's.

Metal's shoulders were grasped. He was pulled, pulled against Sonic. His muzzle was pulled against Sonic's lips. Metal knew the gesture, but had never experienced it himself; a kiss, meant for romantic partners.

It was quick, ending just as fast as it had begun, yet Metal couldn't process how it felt; only that it was wonderful. Sonic's cheeks were flushed red, significant shyness on his face that Metal had never seen on him before.

"There. Is that good enough?" Sonic asked. "Do you get it?"

Metal's insides felt warm, and pleasantly so. He checked to confirm, but his internal fans weren't malfunctioning.

Sonic's hand came in contact with Metal's cheek, Metal feeling the warmth intensify where Sonic's touch was. He looked, and Sonic wore a fond smile; a loving smile.

His calculations were wrong and he suddenly understood why. How did he not see this before? Sonic had always defied the impossible. Why would this be an exception?

"Yes. I understand."